


CS Prompt Collection

by donteattheappleshook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donteattheappleshook/pseuds/donteattheappleshook
Summary: This will be a collection for any Captain Swan prompts I receive on my tumblr - donteattheappleshook. Feel free to drop in and send me a prompt for a story you'd like me to write! Rating it mature because, let's be honest, most of them will probably end up that way.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	1. Scrabble And A Great Many Other Things

**_Anonymous AU Prompt: Emma pushed Killian away when he confessed his feelings to her. He’s finally returned home, a bit broken by the world. Will she finally have the guts to tell him what she always regretted not saying? (Can be smutty or not)_ **

Emma met Killian Jones when she was seventeen years old and she hadn’t liked him one bit. From the moment he’d first said hello to her she’d read him as a cocky, smooth talking broody type who probably liked to win over girls with his accent and his Edward Cullen like aloofness. She had not been a fan. She’d let him know too, on multiple occasions. 

She’d spent most of her time avoiding him for the first month of the semester and she was doing a pretty good job of it actually. That is, until she got detention. For being late. How unfair was that? It wasn’t her fault that Ruth’s car wouldn’t start in the morning and so she and David had had to walk to school. David got away with it, he always did. He was sweet and friendly and he could charm teachers like it was nobody’s business. 

_Emma_ had scowled and defended her innocence and had ended up with detention. She loved the guy, really, ever since he and Ruth had taken her in a year ago she was nothing but grateful for their kindness and love. She’d even started referring to him as her brother. She just hated how much better he was at being a person than she was sometimes. 

That was the second time she met Killian Jones. She was shocked to find him there. Despite her first impression she had managed to discover that he was, at his core, a nerd. He may dress like the love interest in a teen movie but he spent most of his time in the library or sitting under trees reading or doing homework. He even wore glasses sometimes, these big, awful square things that took over half his face. So what was he doing in detention?

“Afternoon, Swan,” he said when she walked in. He was immediately shushed by the teacher who had gotten the unfortunate role of supervising them. “I’m just being friendly,” she heard him mutter under his breath. 

They were the only two in there today. They had to stay for an hour after school. She guessed the punishment for being late to class was being late to dinner. They were told to sit silently and to either do homework or read. Emma figured she might as well try to get through some of her English homework. She was crap at it and it was the one subject that David couldn’t help her with. She’d rather do it here then at home. 

She started working through the questions for Act 1. Why the hell did they still study Shakespeare? The guy was dead four hundred years now. Give it up already - let him rest in peace. She was working on the third question - guessing the answer to the third question was more like it - when she heard a small cough beside her. She looked up to find Killian leaning over in his seat, his own homework in front of him.

“That’s the wrong answer,” he said quietly and she raised a brow at him.

“What?”

“Your answer, Mercutio isn’t Romeo’s cousin. Benvolio is. Mercutio is just his friend.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t being condescending or self-righteous. He was just… letting her know. Trying to help her, she realised. He looked nervous as he glanced at her and then back at his book. 

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“I’m in your English class,” he said, looking down, ears turning red. _Right_. And she was a jerk. She felt bad, he looked a little dejected and it was her fault. She hadn’t seen him hanging around with many people, he was usually alone. Like her. She wondered then, a bit sadly, if maybe he wasn’t alone because he wanted to be. Maybe he was alone because he didn’t have anyone - like her. 

“Thanks,” she said with a smile and he gave her a small one in return. “Um, do you know who the hell Tybalt is?” 

His smile widened and he nodded as he leaned over to help her. The teacher told them to knock it off but he insisted that they were trying to help each other complete the same homework. He even argued that it was more character building than just sitting in silence. He was damn lucky that he seemed to have some of that same charm that David had when it came to teachers. The teacher waved them away, letting them continue to work together. 

She finished her homework a lot faster than she would have without him. And she understood the story a little better than she had coming in to detention. She was reminded then that that was where they were and as she looked at Killian, with his red ears and his shy smile and hunched shoulders and his dumb glasses, she had to ask. 

“What did you do to get in here?” His smile faltered just a tad. He scratched behind his ear nervously. 

“I, um, I punched Eric.”

“You _what_?” she demanded, loud enough that the teacher glared. Of all the things she’d expected - that was not one of them. 

“He was picking on Belle. He threw her book in the snow and made fun of her for liking to read - I mean, who the hell makes fun of someone for _reading_?” 

Emma felt her lips curling up a bit at his incredulous tone. “What, is Belle your girlfriend or something,” she teased. He frowned at her, looking confused.

“No,” he said. “She’s with that strange Scottish exchange student who’s name I can’t pronounce. But she’s a person and she’s sweet and Eric is an asshole and well, Belle is only about yea big,” he said, bringing his thumb and index finger close together. “I couldn’t do _nothing_ ,” he insisted. Emma laughed. 

Two things changed that day. One, Emma understood Shakespeare for the first (and last) time in her life. And two, she decided to make Killian Jones her friend. 

They were inseparable after that. At school they spent almost all of their time together. In class they sat next to each other, they chatted in the halls between bells, they ate lunch together, and Killian ate dinner at their house regularly. Emma learned fairly quickly that his own home wasn’t a place he liked to be when he could avoid it. 

His mother had died when he was young and his father had raised him and his brother for a few years but finally decided that he couldn’t handle raising his sons on his own so when Killian’s brother went off to university, he had sent him to live with his aunt Cora in Boston. She was, in Killian’s own words, not a very nice woman. 

It was then that Emma realised how similar she and Killian were. They’d both been abandoned and left behind by the people who were supposed to care about them more than anyone. His father had sent him away. Her parents had abandoned her by the side of the road. Both their parents had chosen to give them up. And so she invited him for dinner, because Ruth and David were the best thing that had ever happened to her and she thought he could use a little bit of the Nolans in his life. 

He and David got along like a house on fire. She was surprised considering how David was such a jock, and Killian revealed dorkier and dorkier interests with every day that she knew him. But they _were_ similar, she could see that, in their friendliness and openness and their humor. Killian told her that David reminded him of his brother and that made him miss him less. 

David also quickly became the bane of her existence, insisting that she and Killian were secretly in love with each other and getting on her case to just admit it already so that they could get married and have lots of babies like they both clearly wanted. Emma usually punched him for that. 

She and Killian were friends. That was all. She’d had few real friends in her life and she wasn’t going to screw this one up by developing feelings for him. No matter how cute he looked when his hair fell onto his forehead despite his best efforts to push it back. No matter how much he made her laugh or how much she enjoyed when they watched a movie late on the weekend and he let her fall asleep with her head in his lap. No matter how she thought he looked kind of hot when he got mad every time she beat him at Scrabble - which was all the time. They were friends. 

Emma had tried love once. She was sixteen, just when Ruth and David had first taken her in. There had been a guy. He had been in one of her group homes a while back, before he aged out and they had stayed in touch. They’d reunited when they found themselves both in the same city. 

He was older but she didn’t think that mattered. What was five years when they’d lived so many of the same experiences? Ruth hadn’t approved of the situation but she’d stayed mostly quiet about it - their relationship not strong enough for her to impose her views yet. 

She’d thought Neal was the love of her life. But then, she’d had a pregnancy scare and he’d run away faster than a bat outta hell. She’d never heard from him since. She hadn’t been pregnant, thank god. She was not ready to be a mother. But to see how little she meant to him, how despite all his pretty words and promises he had left her so easily the second he was faced with her being in his life forever… it had hurt. It had destroyed her, really. So she figured love wasn’t really worth it in the end. 

She’d met Killian less than a year later and at first she’d hated him because that easy charisma and confidence and air of a damaged soul had reminded her so strongly of Neal that she’d headed for the hills. But after she’d gotten to know him she realised how different they were, and so she did love him - not in that way, _maybe in that way-_ but in the way she loved David. She trusted him and liked being around him. 

He was her friend - even if she _had_ had that weird dream about him one time… several times… too many times. It wasn’t her fault that she thought about him when she woke up and before she went to sleep. He was usually texting her at that time - what else could she think about? They were friends. He was her best friend and he had been for nearly a year when everything changed. 

“I um, I got in,” he told her when they were sitting at the kitchen table one weekend near the end of their senior year. They’d decided to open their letters together. Emma had applied to a few colleges nearby and the local community college. She had her sights set on becoming a police officer or a social worker. She wasn’t sure which yet. Killian wanted to be an English professor. He’d told her so one of the first days they’d hung out. She’d called him a nerd but gave him credit for at least finding a way to make money off of it. 

“Got in where?” she asked. She’d missed which envelope he’d opened. He had a lot - they were all the big envelopes too. 

“Oxford,” he said, his eyes wide in disbelief and amazement. 

“Holy shit, Killian!” she shouted, standing up and throwing her arms around him, nearly knocking him right off his chair. “That’s amazing! Isn’t that where your brother studies? That’s an amazing school! Oh my god, professor Jones here you come!” 

She was beaming, so proud of him, so happy for him. She knew this was his dream school. But there was something off. He didn’t look as thrilled as she expected him to. Maybe it was just shock but she thought he could at least smile about it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, nudging his shoulder. “I thought this was what you wanted?” 

“It is - sort of. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“It’s in England,” he said and for the first time since he’d opened that letter it hit her. Oh. _Oh._ That meant… that meant he’d be leaving. Moving hundreds of miles away. 

“I don’t have to go there,” he said, giving her an awkward, embarrassed smile. “I got into Harvard too.” 

“You _what_?” she practically screamed. She punched his arm. “You weren’t supposed to open letters without me!” 

“It was _Harvard,_ Emma,” he deadpanned and she couldn’t really be mad at him. She wouldn’t have been able to wait either. 

“Where do you want to go?” she asked and he looked at her hesitantly. She tried not to think about the way her heart was racing in her chest. Or about how blue his eyes were. Or about how she might not get to see them every day if he went to Oxford. 

“I don’t know,” he started and she knew he was lying. 

“Yes you do.” He looked away, not meeting her eye. “Killian, I know you hate it here,” he opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “I know you like me and David and Belle and some of the others but… I know you miss home. I know you miss your brother. I also know it’s the better program because you’ve told me so. Multiple times.” She held her breath for a moment, surprised at how much it hurt to encourage him to follow his dream. “Oxford is everything you’ve ever wanted.” 

“Not everything,” he said and she tried to meet his eye. He wouldn’t look at her. 

“What do you mean? What’s missing.” 

“You,” he answered, finally looking at her and her breath caught in her throat. Not just at his words, but at the way he was looking at her, like he’d been holding something back a long time and now the floodgates had opened and it was rushing out, plain on his face. “Oxford doesn’t have _you_ ,” he said. 

“If I stay here,” he continued, “we could go to school in the same city. We could keep hanging out between classes and on the weekends - we could even get a flat together!” he said a little excitedly and Emma’s chest hurt because she wanted all of those things, _so badly_. But she couldn’t have them. She couldn’t let him choose her over his future. They were friends. They were seventeen. He would regret it and resent her for the rest of his life. 

“But Oxford is your dream, everything you said you wanted,” she reminded him. “Oxford is where your family is, your brother and your old friends.” Her argument sounded weak to her own ears. 

“Maybe I have other dreams, other things I want more,” he said, looking at her that way again. It scared her. 

“What dreams,” she asked, barely whispering. 

“Emma,” he said, taking her hand and her heart started racing. “Emma you have to know, there’s no way you couldn’t. The whole school knows, your brother knows.” Her breath was coming quickly now, all of her senses on high alert and her blood rushing in her ears as he leaned in.

He pressed his lips to hers, tentatively, nervously, but with a passion that Killian always had for anything he did, anything he cared about. She shouldn’t let him kiss her, she thought. She couldn’t. She couldn’t because she wanted him to and if she wanted that then she had to admit to everything she wanted, to how much she wanted him. 

Of course she knew. She’d always known and… he knew too. But this was his _life_ . His _future_. She couldn't let him throw it away for her. She loved him, regardless of which way, and so she had to let him go. So she did let him kiss her, for a moment, let her lips slide over his own, let herself enjoy how natural it felt, how right it felt - because she knew she’d never get to again. She pulled away first. 

“Killian -” she started and he must have heard it in her voice because he raised his hand, cupped her cheek.

“No,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. His words were frantic, desperate, like he was trying to hold on to something he knew was slipping away. “I love you, Emma. Ask me not to go. Ask me to stay.” 

She couldn’t. She couldn’t ask him that. It was selfish and she couldn’t let him give up his dreams for her. She wasn’t worth it. She knew he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let her convince him to leave just like that. She’d have to hurt him - for his own sake. And it would hurt her just as much. 

“I can’t,” she said and she felt his hand tighten slightly in her hair. She pulled back. “Killian. Don’t stay for me. Whatever it is you feel for me… I don’t,” she lied. “I’m sorry. But you can’t stay in Boston for me. Not if you’re staying because you hope something will happen because… it’s never going to happen.”

She felt him tense. His hand still in her hair, her hand still clasped in his. Then he pulled back all at once, looked down, and then back at her. He was hurt, but there was guilt there too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Emma, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine.”

“Will you still be my friend?” he asked. “Even after…”

“Yes,” she promised. 

“You really want me to go?” he asked. She nodded, hoped he didn’t see the tears she was struggling to hold off. 

“Yeah. I really want you to go,” she said. 

When Killian went home that night, earlier than usual, Emma let herself cry. 

Killian left in the summer. Their goodbye was awkward, as had most of their interactions been since his confession. They’d tried not to make it awkward, to go back to how they’d been but now he had this huge vulnerability hanging between them and she had this huge lie hanging between them. It tore at the fabric that made them what they were, that made their friendship what it had been. It stained it. 

“Keep in touch,” she said as she hugged him outside his aunt’s house, the cab waiting behind them. 

“Aye,” he promised. He got in the cab and David’s arm was around her suddenly. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she lied again. She was getting good at it. 

***

They were still sort of friends, for the first year they kept in touch - really made an effort. Killian told her about the residence and the people he had met and his professors and Emma told him about her forensics courses. She’d decided on becoming a police officer - but she wanted to be a detective. David was in the same program. It was nice to do it with someone else. 

But slowly, unavoidably, life got in the way. The phone calls were few and farther between, he didn’t have the money to go to Boston for Thanksgiving and she didn’t have the money to go to England for Christmas. Plans were broken, texts went unanswered, new friends were made, new interests developed and slowly, they drifted. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just one of those sad, unavoidable realities of life. Only, he and David still talked, still texted and emailed and spoke on the phone. So maybe it wasn’t so unavoidable. Maybe they’d both needed it. 

She still had him on Facebook, still checked in on his profile despite the years that passed, trying to stay aware of the things that were happening in his life. She learned about his brother’s death from David. She sent him a card with her condolences but she didn’t go to the funeral. It had been three years since he left, two since they’d spoken. He probably wouldn’t have wanted her there anyway. He hadn’t come down for David and Mary Margaret’s wedding a year later, despite having known both of them since high school. He’d had exams and had sent his apologies and a gift by mail. 

She saw online that he was in a long-term relationship, someone called Milah, a pretty dark haired woman who looked a few years older than him, a professor at his school she discovered after a little bit of snooping. He was with her for two years during which Emma was accosted with pictures of the two of them, until finally, one day they just stopped. She wondered what had happened there. 

She smiled when she learned that he got his PhD. He’d posted a picture of himself with a beer in one hand and his diploma in the other. He’d captioned it ‘ _that’s DOCTOR Killian Jones to you’_. She hit the like button. He changed his job status to ‘employed’ at one of the smaller nearby colleges shortly after and she was proud of him. He’d done it. He’d gotten everything he wanted. It had taken ten years, but he was exactly who he’d hoped to be. 

So was she. She had made detective a few years ago, alongside David. They were even allowed to be partners since technically they weren’t related. She was happy, she had a job she loved, a nice apartment that was all her own, good friends, family… but she still checked his Facebook. She still spent evenings sometimes with a glass of wine looking up the boy who had told her he loved her when she was seventeen. 

She and David were sitting in their patrol car, staking out a coffee shop of all places that they’d been told their perp liked to use to make his drops, when he told her Killian was moving back. 

“ _What_?” she demanded, her voice practically squeaking. 

“He got a job at Harvard,” David said dismissively, as though he hadn’t just turned her world upside down. “He’s got a one year teaching contract. I guess they liked the idea of a Brit teaching British lit,” he smirked a little at his own joke. 

Emma was reeling. She wasn’t prepared for this. She didn’t know how to handle the guy that she’d loved in high school and then stalked on Facebook for ten years suddenly coming back into her life. 

“You okay?” David asked, looking at her strangely. 

“Fine,” she said quickly and he rolled his eyes, not buying it. 

“Whatever,” he said, picking his battles. “We’re having a party at our house to welcome him home,” he told her. “You should come.” Emma forgot sometimes that David and Killian were still friends, even after all these years. He and Mary Margaret had even taken the time to visit him when they’d gone to Europe for their anniversary last year.

“Maybe,” she said dismissively. 

“He still asks about you, you know,” David said after a moment. Emma stayed silent, pretending to look through her binoculars at the front door of the cafe. Pretending her heart wasn’t racing in her chest at the idea of seeing the man whose heart she’d broken a decade ago. 

She’d debated not going to the party. Had walked to her front door and back into her kitchen a few times, had hesitated at her car, but she’d finally told herself to snap out of it. It had been ten years ago. They’d been teenagers. He was surely over it by now and she should be too. So she went. 

She hadn’t been prepared. She thought she was but when she walked in and saw him standing with David and Mary Margaret, smiling at something one of them was saying… it was brutal. It was brutal because he was different. She’d expected him to be different of course, but not like this. 

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked sadder and older. He held himself more confidently than he had in high school, but something about it told her it was a facade. Maybe she just knew him, she thought. But she didn’t anymore, did she, she was reminded. Her heart stopped when he looked over, met her eyes. He smiled a little but it wasn’t the easy smile she’d loved so much. He raised his bottle at her and she gave an awkward wave. 

“Long time no see, stranger,” he said later, coming up behind her to say hello and honestly scaring the absolute shit out of her.

“Jesus, Killian,” she said, hand to her chest. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on a cop like that?”

He smiled, that teasing smile she remembered. “I think I could take David if we’re honest.” She laughed. “I heard you made detective,” he said. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks. I hear you’re finally Professor Jones.”

“Aye. It seems we both got what we wanted in the end,” he said and there was a bit of sadness in the way he said it, the kind that she could tell was unintentional. 

“So,” she started awkwardly when the silence dragged on. “How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he said. “You?” This was brutal. They continued the small talk for a while. She missed how easy things used to be between them. She missed all the stupid, fun things they did when they were kids and they didn’t have all this baggage hanging between them. 

“You know what I miss?” she said out loud and he raised a brow at her. 

“No, Swan, what do you miss?” 

“I miss when we used to steal Ruth’s whiskey and climb up onto the roof and drink it there,” she smiled, remembering how many long, slightly drunken conversations they’d had as kids on the roof of Ruth’s house. 

Killian smiled, fondly and then a little mischievously. He leaned in a little and Emma couldn’t help but notice the way his face had changed. His jaw was sharper, some of the roundness of his cheeks having faded with age, and he’d grown into his nose. He was sporting a short beard now too, something he’d always wanted to complete his professor look but hadn’t been able to grow. He dressed better too, no more jeans and band tshirts. Now he wore… well, jeans and a tshirt but nicer ones with a jacket and boots instead of converse. It was pretty unfair, Emma thought, that he'd gotten better looking with age. He’d been good-looking enough to begin with. 

“I think I spy a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen there,” he hinted and Emma smirked. 

“This place does have a roof,” she said, matching his tone. 

“I’ll get the bottle, you distract Dave,” he said, winking - well, trying to. He’d never mastered that one and it made her smile a bit to see that some things hadn’t changed. 

They successfully managed to steal the bottle and hurry their way up to the guest room that Emma knew had a window they could walk out onto the roof from. They sat there, knees pulled up, passing the bottle between them as they looked out at the slowly darkening sky. Emma let the liquor warm her, let it make her a little looser, a little braver. 

“How are you really, Killian?” she asked eventually. He sighed, reaching for the bottle and taking a sip. 

“Tired,” he said. “It’s been a rough few years.” 

“I saw, about your brother,” she said. “I’m sorry.” 

He nodded. “Thank you. I’ve learned to live with it.”

“There was a woman too,” she said, not quick enough to catch the words before they slipped out. He raised an eyebrow at her teasingly.

“Been stalking my facebook, have you, Swan?”

She shrugged, deciding to be honest. “Only a little.” He looked surprised at her confession, a small smile breaking out on his face. 

“Aye, there was a woman,” he said and she wanted to roll her eyes at the fact that he sounded like some old dandy poet, lamenting over a lost love. “Milah. She went back to her husband.” Emma’s eyes shot up to her hairline. _Husband_? Wow. That was not what she’d expected. “There was a child involved,” he said, not turning to see her surprised look. “It was for the best.” 

He didn’t sound like he totally believed what he said, but he sounded like he’d made peace with it. Emma felt for him. His life had continued on the way it had been when they met. He’d lost more people, been left behind by more people he cared about, loved. She’d managed to avoid that. But she hadn’t let herself love anyone new. Not since him. 

“And what about you?” he asked, turning to hand her back the bottle. “What great loves have you lived and lost? Or is there a great love now?” he asked with a cheeky smile. She laughed.

“Nah, not for me,” she said. “My love affairs usually only last until the next morning.” He huffed out a laugh as she took another drink from the bottle. 

“Ah, you’ll find it someday,” he said. “One day there will be a man that you can’t dream of living without and that one will last a long time.”

“Two nights?” she joked and he laughed again. His laugh was the same, she thought with a small smile. 

“Aye, two nights.” 

They sat in silence for a while, continuing to share the bottle and Emma decided to blame that for what she said next. “I’ve missed you,” she told him and he turned his head to face her, away from the stars they’d been gazing up at. 

“I’ve missed you too, Swan,” he told her. He lay back, stretched his arm out and she took the invitation, snuggled up next to him like they had when they were teenagers watching scary movies and she lay her head on his shoulder. 

They stayed out there for another hour before David came to find them, scolding Killian for sneaking out of his own party. But he smiled at them as they climbed back through the window and Emma knew he was happy they’d found their way back to each other - that they were finding their way back to the friendship she’d once valued more than anything.

The next night, Emma invited him out for a drink with her and some of her friends from college. He’d made a comment about going out two nights in a row and she’d mocked him for being an old man - ‘ _I’m sorry, has it been ten years or fifty since we last saw each other?’_ \- and he agreed to join her. 

Emma was surprised, tough not really, at how well he fit in with her friends. They all loved him, loved his stories from teaching and the fact that he had dirt on Emma from before any of them knew her. He and Will and Robin hit it off immediately and she figured it was probably a brit thing. They spent over an hour talking about soccer. 

He fit in well here. Emma tried not to think about the fact that he fit so well into her life. Or about how much she liked that he fit there, how much she’d missed having him there. She also, _really_ tried to ignore the way that his shirt clung to his biceps. He hadn’t had those in high school. It was difficult when Ruby seemed so intent on pointing it out. Ruby was being herself, pretending to be more salacious than she really was for a laugh, making comments about how she could just spread him on a cracker, when she looked at Emma and her face changed. 

“ _Oh,_ ” she said and Emma didn’t like the knowing tone of her voice.

“What?” Emma asked, realising that her arms were crossed over her chest. She let them fall, tried to strike a more casual pose. 

“I didn’t realise… you like him,” she said with a sly smile. Emma scoffed.

“We’re friends,” she said flatly. 

“Mhm,” Ruby smirked. “You don’t look at me like that,” she pointed out. “Or Will, or Robin, or even Graham.” 

“Shut up,” Emma said, crossing her arms again as Killian looked over and she accidentally, automatically smiled at him. Ruby only laughed. 

They _were_ friends. They’d only just started being friends again. She wasn’t going to ruin it now. She’d been the one to ensure that they would always, only be friends. ‘ _It’s never going to happen’_ , she’d told him. She’d made her bed. Now she had to lie in it - alone. 

She still couldn’t help wondering though if he still kissed the same way. She’d only kissed him once but she’d had yet to have another that lived up to it. And he’d been a teenager then, she was pretty sure she was the second girl he’d ever kissed. She wondered what it would be like now. 

She pushed the thought away. She’d thrown that possibility out the window a long time ago. She’d done it for his own good. And look who he was now, a professor, he had a goddamn PhD. He’d gotten everything he wanted. So why did he look so sad most of the time? Why was she so sad most of the time? She hadn’t noticed that she was before - it had only been since he came back and she had become aware of the gaping hole where something had been missing from her life. 

Having him back helped a bit. Like a bandaid over an open wound. She just hoped that the awkwardness would fade and they would find their way back to the friendship she had mourned for so long, had never really gotten over. She hoped he would let her earn it back. She looked at him laughing at something Robin said and she realised that regardless of time, her life was a little better with him in it. 

The awkwardness did fade. It wasn’t instant and it wasn’t necessarily easy - there was a lot between them, a lot of years and disappointments and broken trust, but soon, they found their way back to what they’d had as kids. It wasn’t long before they were spending evenings in each other's apartments, curling up on the couch and watching bad movies. She found herself smiling a lot throughout the day when he would text her a funny message or a stupid meme.

He was there for Christmas, only the second they’d gotten to celebrate together. They’d both spent the night at David and Mary Margaret’s and Emma had only been disappointed for a second that there were two guest rooms. She’d been looking forward to staying up late talking with him and laughing… and flirting. She’d noticed that there had been a bit more flirting, more than there used to be. On second thought, having to share a bed might not have been a good thing. Not if she wanted to keep him as a friend. She bought him a tweed jacket with leather patches on the shoulders that year. It was meant to be a joke but he’d worn it every day for a month. 

He was there for New Years and Emma felt her heart skip a beat when he kissed her at midnight. It was a small thing, a peck on the lips, barely a second, and he’d smiled at her in a way that made her feel that she shouldn’t read into it - no matter how much she wanted to. It was just a European thing, she insisted, weird boundaries. 

There had been a moment, once, when they’d been sitting on her couch in her apartment, watching another terrible movie. Nothing had happened, nothing specifically, but suddenly she found herself looking at him and he was watching her too, something heavy hanging in the air between them. 

Their hands were close and he moved his little finger, brushed it over hers and it made her breath stop. It was ridiculous, considering her legs were thrown over his and they were already sitting so close, but her breath stopped anyway. It was the way he was looking at her, the uncertainty and the affection and just a tiny bit of longing - there was no other word for it. She recognized it because she’d felt it every day since he’d come home - every day since he’d left ten years ago. 

His fingers had continued, collecting more of hers and slowly intertwining them. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to kiss her. She was pretty sure that he would for a moment. He held their hands up between them, looked at them and then at her, pulled her a little closer. And then a loud noise had come from the TV and he’d jumped, dropping her hands and scratching at his ear. They didn’t bring it up again. 

He was there for St Patty’s Day and Easter and the Fourth of July and birthdays, and before she knew it a year had passed. Well, nearly a year, eleven months to be exact. She knew that because it was August and he was complaining about having to go back to teaching the ‘little entitled shit’s’ as he called them. 

“Weren't you one of those students a few years ago?” she reminded him, flicking at his ear as she walked around him into her kitchen to grab them a snack. He was sitting on her sofa a few feet away. Her apartment was small, but it was cozy.

“I was a little shit,” he allowed, batting at her hand. “But I was never entitled. It’s the entiledness that really gets to me.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” she taunted, as she put the popcorn in the microwave and turned it on. 

He turned, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and looking over his shoulder at her. “You really want to question an English Literature professor?” 

“Being a professor doesn’t mean you get to make up words,” she told him. “Besides, I still beat you in Scrabble so I’m pretty sure _I’m_ the expert.” 

He scoffed, hopping over the back of the couch and joining her in the kitchen. “Scrabble is a game of luck, nothing more,” he told her. “You can’t make words if you don’t get the right letters.” 

“Sounds like something a loser would say,” she shrugged. He looked at her in shock and Emma saw the glint in his eye a second before he moved. “Don’t,” she tried to warn him but he was too fast. He grabbed her and the idiot started tickling her, actually tickling her like he was seven years old. 

“Admit I have a superior mastery of the English language,” he demanded. She shrieked as she laughed, her sides burning, cursing him. He had her trapped against his body, his arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her back to his chest.

“Never!” she saw her opportunity and she took it. She grabbed his arm and spun him around, managed to pin him against the fridge, her arm braced against his chest, holding one of his wrists, she held the other down at his side. 

“Woah,” he said, eyes wide. 

“I keep telling you not to mess with cops,” she pointed out. 

“That was kind of hot,” he admitted, looking more impressed than turned on really. But that was enough for Emma to realise that she had him pushed up against the fridge, her whole body pressed to his. She could feel her face warming, could feel all of her skin warming where she touched his. _Oh._ She saw it in his eyes when he noticed too. 

She let him go, moved to step back but he caught her, putting his hand on her lower back and pulling her back in. Her heart rate picked up as he pressed her against him, that look in his eyes he’d had that night on her couch back again. He licked his bottom lip and Emma’s eyes darted down to it immediately. 

She saw the way his expression changed a little when she did, curiosity there as he cocked his head, looking her over. He seemed unable to settle on a single part of her face until he stopped at her lips. His own parted, his chin tilting slightly, drawing closer and she couldn’t think of anything except the heat of him against her and her heart running a marathon in her chest. She could feel his breath on her face and that he looked so damn handsome and she just really, really wanted him to kiss her. 

The microwave beeped and Emma cursed the shitty timing that seemed to keep ripping them apart anytime she was given the smallest bit of hope that there could be something more, that _they_ could be something more. Because that was what she wanted. She’d stopped denying it that night on her couch. 

She wanted Killian. She _loved_ Killian. She had since she was seventeen years old. She’d thought it would go away, had almost believed it had at one point. But then he’d come back into her life and that part of her that had been on mute, on pause but never truly gone had reared its head, made sure she knew that she was still, completely and hopelessly in love with the boy she’d met in detention. 

Killian released her, cleared his throat and she stepped back. She held back her sigh, her disappointment. She couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not after all they went through, not now that they were back to who they’d been. _She’d_ turned him down ten years ago. _She’d_ broken his heart. To tell him now that she loved him, that she’d always loved him... She feared his reaction, feared his rejection. 

“I have to tell you something.” He said to her back. She was pouring popcorn into a bowl. 

“If it’s that you don’t want Milkduds in your popcorn you’re shit outta luck,” she said, trying to lighten the heavy mood between them. 

“No, well, _yes_ , but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.” She turned around, recognizing the serious tone of his voice. She leaned back against the counter, waiting for him to say whatever he needed to say. “I’ve been offered a job,” he told her. 

“Killian that’s amazing!” she started but he stopped her. 

“It’s at Oxford.” She felt her heart drop into her stomach. _No_ . _Not again._ She’d only just gotten him back. “A former professor of mine, Nemo, he pulled some strings when one of the faculty announced her retirement. He says the job is mine if I can get there for the fall semester.” 

It took Emma a moment to speak, trying to process what he was saying, trying to cope with the way it was ripping out her heart. “What about Harvard?” she asked, a little hopefully. 

He scratched that spot behind his ear like he always did when he was nervous. “That position is still up in the air. They’re still reviewing my candidacy.” 

She didn’t say anything, not for a long time. She couldn’t think of what to say. She felt like she was seventeen again, having the exact same conversation they’d had then. _Please don’t go,_ she wanted to beg. _Don’t leave. Stay here with me. Be with me. Choose me._ But he’d chosen her once before. He’d chosen her and she’d practically thrown it back in his face. 

“It’s a pretty great opportunity,” he continued. “Rare too. It usually takes years to get a position like that.” She could hear him speaking, was aware that he was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the thoughts that were rolling around in her head. She couldn’t lose him again. Not like last time. _Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go._

“The English program there is renowned and-”

“Don’t go.” 

He froze. “What?” 

_Shit. Shit,_ she’d said it out loud. He was looking at her with disbelief and shock and maybe a tiny bit of hope, but maybe she’d imagined that. Well, it was too late now to take it back. 

“Don’t go,” she repeated, stronger this time. She watched the emotions playing over his face, so many that she couldn’t track all of them. But the last one was anger, a desperate kind. 

“What do you mean _don’t go_?” he reeled on her. “How - How can you ask me that? After all these years?” 

“I know,” she said, hanging her head. “I’m sorry but I just,” she took a deep breath. “I let you leave once and it was the worst mistake I ever made. I was in love with you and when you left I lost you and... Don’t go.” His eyes widened in shock, his jaw dropping. If this moment hadn’t been so serious it would have been almost comical.

“ _You were in love with me_ ?” he demanded, disbelief clear in his voice. He stepped forward. “Why didn’t you tell me that ten years ago? Why did you push me away?” His voice cracked a little. “ _I_ was in love with _you_ , Emma. I’d have done anything for you and you - You broke my heart.” 

“I know,” she could feel tears burning her eyes. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought that if you stayed you’d resent me, that you’d hate me eventually. I wanted you to get everything you wanted.”

“ _You_ were what I wanted!” he practically shouted at her. She flinched a little. “I _wanted_ to be with _you_ but you turned me down. And then you cut me out of your life.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did, Emma. You stopped answering my calls, my texts, my emails. You didn’t come to the funeral…” She hung her head again. “And now, now we’re finally speaking again, finally back in each other’s lives, finally friends again and _now_ you say you loved me? _Now_ you ask me to stay?”

“Are you not anymore?” she asked and he looked at her in confusion. “In love with me," she clarified. She shouldn’t be asking him. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Just because her feelings hadn’t changed in ten years didn’t mean his wouldn’t. He tensed, stood up straighter.

“Are you?” he demanded. 

Emma bit her lip. She was. She was as in love with him now as she was at seventeen but it was different now. She was an adult, she understood the difference between love and infatuation, knew how they were different. Her love had grown from missing him for a decade, had grown more from being with him this last year. It was all consuming, all she thought about. All she wanted was him, if he turned her down now… she didn’t know if she’d recover. 

“Emma, how can you ask me to stay if you can’t even tell me how you feel? What are you asking me to stay for?” She didn’t have an answer. She just stared at her feet. He waited for a while, and she heard as his breath slowed and became a heavy sigh. “I should go,” he said, walking back over to the couch to grab his jacket. 

He was at the door when the panic seized her. The dread and the fear that he was leaving, that he was walking out of her life again, that it was her fault again, that she would surely lose him for good this time, overwhelmed her, reared its head and took over. _What are you asking me to stay for?_ he’d asked. He hadn’t answered her question, hadn’t told her he didn’t love her. He’d just wanted a reason. She’d give him a reason if it meant he would stay. He’d been the one to put his heart on the line last time. Now it was her turn.

“Don’t go,” she said again and he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t go. Don’t leave the apartment. Don’t go back to England. Don’t leave again. Please,” she begged.

He didn’t turn around but she heard him speak. “Why not?” 

“Because I love you,” she nearly shouted at him. “Okay? I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen and I thought I could get over it but I can’t. I lost you once and I can’t lose you again so please,” she paused, a small sob leaving her. He turned around finally, walked back over to where she still stood against the counter. 

“Please just don’t go,” she said again, quieter this time. “I should have said it then but I’m saying it now. I’m being selfish and asking you to pass on your amazing opportunity. I’m asking you to choose me and be with me instead.”

He took her chin between his thumb and his finger dragged her gaze up from where it had been staring at her feet, met her eyes and her heart jumped at the softness there, the anger from earlier gone. “I’ll stay,” he said and she thought her knees would give out with the force of the relief, the hope hitting her all at once.

“What about your job?” she said hesitantly. _Shut up, Emma. You got what you wanted._ But she still cared - about his success and his dreams, even as she asked him to give them up.

“Fuck my job,” he said before his hand moved to her cheek and he slid his mouth over hers. Emma wanted to cry as she felt his lips move over her own. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, slanting his mouth over hers and she opened beneath him, let him explore her with lips and tongue, and his hands on her body. 

Her hands came up around his neck, tangling in his hair and dragging him closer, pressing herself against him until here was no room left between them at all. He backed her against the counter and she didn’t care even as she felt the hard ridge digging into her back. He groaned when she rolled her hips against the hard ridge digging into her belly. 

“Wait, wait,” he said, breath heavy and ragged as he pulled his lips away from hers.

“What?” she asked, suddenly nervous. That had been the best moment in her entire life and now she feared it would come crashing down, that he’d changed his mind. 

“I forgot to tell you that I love you too,” he said, sounding panicked. She looked at him in disbelief and in that moment he was _exactly_ the boy she’d fallen in love with, awkward and sweet and nervous and just so stupid for such a smart person. “I love you,” he said. “I have for a decade. It never stopped for me either.” Whatever quip she had planned died on her tongue at the sincerity in his voice and on his face. 

She smiled before pulling his lips back to hers, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss him properly, the way she’d wanted to for ten years and hadn’t been able to. He kissed her back just as eagerly, lips and teeth and tongue driving her nearly as mad as his hands, which were everywhere at once, stoking the fire that had been burning inside of her since she’d pinned him against the fridge. 

“You’ve gotten better at this,” she teased when they pulled back a moment to catch their breath. He gave her a truly wicked grin. 

“I’ve gotten better at a great many things,” he promised, and she knew where he was going with it, was definitely on board with his plan… but she couldn’t help herself.

“Not Scrabble…” 

He bent down then, grabbing her around the knees and hoisting her up over his shoulder. She shrieked, laughing as he carried her the short distance to her bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously on the mattress. He was such a sore loser. 

He looked at her for a moment, standing at the edge of the bed before leaning down over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head, and lowering his face to hers so their lips nearly brushed as he spoke.

“Not Scrabble,” he conceded before that smile came back. “But a _great_ many things.” 


	2. Seal of Approval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a combination of two prompts. An anonymous one on tumblr asking for a CS/Snowing double date and one on here by dmarie asking for a CS date during the six week gap in season 4.

Emma gets up quickly, sets down one of the giant muffins her mom made and heads in the direction of the crib when she hears her brother crying.  _ Damnit, she’d only just gotten him to sleep, only just gotten to sit down and have a bite to eat _ .  _ Babysitting sucks. _ She loves baby Neal - even if she isn’t the biggest fan of his name - but anyone that comes between her and a snack is going to have something to answer for. 

“Hey, man,” she says, picking him up out of his crib and bouncing him on her hip. “Couldn’t hold in the waterworks until Mom and Dad came home?” Neal stops crying and smiles up at her, grabbing a fistfull of her sweater and leaning his head on her shoulder. Okay, maybe he’s not so bad. He could be worse. He could be a giant ice monster, or a dragon, or the Dark One.

She shudders. It’s been three weeks since their last crisis, since the Ice Queen sacrificed herself and since Belle banished Gold from Storybrooke. Emma still can’t believe she did that, can’t believe the amount of guts and backbone that it took for her to do that despite the love she’s sure Belle will always have for him. But he’d gone too far, threatened too many people, lied to them too many times, and he’d had to pay the price. 

Since he’s been gone it’s been, well, quiet. It’s strange - for Storybrooke anyway. Emma and her dad take turns working at the station, Mary Margaret is back at the school regularly now that there’s no monster to fight. Killian has been spending his time working alongside Belle to help free the fairies from the Sorcerer’s hat - that’s a friendship Emma hadn’t seen coming, but she’s glad that Killian has someone else in town to spend time with besides her and David. He’s really starting to feel like a part of the community. 

Today is her day off, and while she’d have liked to spend it hanging out with Killian on his newly returned ship - not that they really ever leave the cabin but that’s besides the point - he and Belle are pretty sure they’ve had a breakthrough and Granny had to cancel on babysitting. So she’d agreed to do it. How much trouble can a kid be? She has fake memories of raising one after all. Neal spits up in her hair. She sighs. How much longer until her parents get home?

“Hi Sweetheart,” Snow says, walking through the door just as Emma has set Neal down with a few of his toys and is attempting to wash baby vomit out of her hair in the kitchen sink. “How was your day?” she asks, picking the baby up. David walks in behind her.

“Great,” she lies. Her mom doesn’t need to know. “He already had his supper but I didn’t give him his last bottle yet.” 

“Thanks,” David says, kissing her forehead. It’s still a bit weird, knowing that David and Mary Margaret are her parents, that they’re the same age as her. But it’s weird in the same way that it’s weird that everyone in town is a fairytale character. She’s starting to get used to it and if she doesn’t think about it too much, she can forget it. Mostly. Usually. 

“How was the station, Dad?” she asks. 

“Quiet,” he says. “Just some teens graffitiing the alley behind Granny’s.” 

“Did you use your scary prince face?” she asks. 

“I don’t have a scary prince face!” he insists. “But no, I sicked Granny on them,” he tells her with a knowing smirk.

Emma laughs. “How was school?” she asks Mary Margaret. 

Mary Margaret goes on to tell her about her day, about the work the kids are doing, how they’re adjusting to everything. She also mentions that she saw Killian and Belle on her way home and that they were finishing up at the library from the looks of it. 

“Killian was walking her home,” she tells her. “It was sweet. I think he worries about her.” 

Emma smiles a little. “Yeah, well, Killian has a history with women who’ve loved the Dark One.” Both her parents frown and she realises this is not a backstory she wants to get into - or one that’s hers to tell. “I think I’ll head over,” she tells them. “Go meet Killian on the Jolly if he’s done for the day.”

“Again?” David asks and the way he says it makes her pause. 

“What do you mean ‘ _ again _ ’?”

“Well you’ve - you’ve been there almost every night this week,” David says. 

“Yeah, it’s Regina’s week with Henry. What’s your point?” she asks with a raised brow. 

“David,” Snow interrupts. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to spend her time at her boyfriend’s that’s totally up to her.”

“ _ Boyfriend _ ?” David demands, shock and disbelief and a hint of panic in his tone. 

“David...” it’s a warning this time. 

“Do you have a problem with me dating Killian?” Emma asks. She thought her dad was starting to like Killian. Had she been wrong? 

There’s a long, tense moment before David speaks. “No,” he says finally, shoulders falling on his exhale. “I just… didn’t realise you guys were so serious.” He’s trying really hard to sound casual and she appreciates that. 

“Yeah, well,” she says. It is serious. She thinks. They date and spend most nights on his ship together, they’re sleeping together and as far as she knows neither of them are sleeping with other people. He tried True Love’s Kiss on her for god’s sake and as terrifying as that idea still is… well, yeah, she’s pretty sure it’s getting serious. More serious than she’s let anything get in a long time. Walsh doesn’t count. 

“Then I think we should meet him,” David says and both Emma and Snow turn to him in confusion. “Properly.”

“Dad, you know Killian.” Was there another curse that came through town that she didn’t hear about? 

“I don’t mean  _ meet _ him I mean…” he searches for words. “If we were back in the Enchanted Forest, or even if we’d been able to raise you here, if you were dating someone seriously you would have brought him over, for dinner or something, so that we could meet him properly, as your  _ boyfriend. _ ” He nearly chokes on the last word. 

Emma frowns at him, skeptical. “Is this some weird thing so that you can ask him about his intentions or something?”

“No!” he insists quickly. He clears his throat. “Besides, I already did that,” he adds quietly.

“You did  _ what? _ ”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me!” 

“Huh,” is all David says. 

“Probably because he knew it would make me annoyed at you. He wouldn’t want that.” David’s face softens and looks guilty all at once. “He’s changed.”

“I know he has. I just… we didn’t get to raise you and meet any of your boyfriends. This time, if it’s something real, I want to get to know him better,” he says and Emma lets her hackles down a little. “Why don’t you invite him over for dinner tomorrow night?” 

“Are you planning to interrogate him?”

“No… I mean I have  _ some _ questions,” he starts and holds a hand up when Emma starts to protest. “But they’re normal questions. The kind a dad should be allowed to ask the man who’s dating his daughter.” 

Emma sighs. “I get it, Dad. I do. But, I’m not a kid. We’re the same age and bringing my boyfriend over for some formal, meet the parents dinner just feels… weird.”

“Why don’t we do something else then?” Snow chimes in, ever the peacekeeper. “Maybe… a double date!”

“ _ A what _ ?” Emma and David answer in unison. 

“Like you said, we’re all the same age. Why don’t we all go out and do something fun together? That way, we can get to know Killian better without so much pressure. Emma has a point, Sweetheart. The age thing makes it weird so maybe, this way, we can work on being friends,” she finishes very diplomatically, her hand stroking David’s arm. 

“But I…” David starts. 

“Honey, our daughter is a grown woman. Killian is older than you. We can’t pretend she’s a little girl that needs looking after. Besides, it’s been a while since we had a date night.” 

David sighs, caving. “Alright,” he agrees and Emma shares a thankful look with her mom. David looks up again. “But can I at least -”

“ _ No _ ,” Snow and Emma cut him off. 

-/-

“So listen,” Emma says, propping her chin on Killian’s chest, her fingers drawing patterns through the hair there. “I need you to do something for me.” 

Killian’s smile is obscene as he pulls her in closer, hand wandering over her naked back. “Anything,” he promises as his fingers trace over the skin at the curve of her hip.  _ He’s gonna regret saying that _ , she thinks. She really wishes she didn’t have to ask him what she’s about to ask him because she knows it’s going to stop the trail of his hand cold. 

“I need you to go on a date with me and my parents.” 

He freezes, blinks. “I’m sorry?” he asks with a small shake of his head, eyes wide. “What?” He’s frowning at her now and it’s really almost funny to watch all the emotions play across his face. She pulls back, sits up, letting the sheet fall around her waist and taking a moment to appreciate the way his eyes drift down despite his confusion. 

“David and Mary Margaret want to go on a double date with us.”

“They want to spend an evening out with us? With me? With the man who is currently engaging in sexual congress with their daughter?” 

She smacks him on the shoulder and he laughs, catching her hand and pulling her back down on top of him. “Oh my god. You  _ cannot _ make reference to the fact that we’re having sex! I think my dad is still trying to convince himself that I’m a virgin.” Killian smiles wickedly again and she glares. “Don’t,” she warns and he bites his lip. 

“So what exactly would this evening entail? Would they care to join us for a night on the Jolly Roger?” 

Emma shakes her head. “It’s too cold. We just don’t notice it because we stay down here.”

“That’s not true,” he insists. “There was that one night on the deck. I believe we managed to keep quite warm.” She rolls her eyes. “So what then? Dinner at Granny’s?” 

She shakes her head again. “They said that wasn’t special enough since we eat there all the time together. And the whole town would be there.”

“Alright. Then what did they suggest?”

Emma shuts her eyes and buries her head in his chest, not wanting to say her next words. “They want to go for drinks at the Rabbit Hole,” she mumbles against him. 

“The Rabbit Hole?” he asks and she can hear the raised eyebrow in his tone. “Why the devil would they suggest that?”

“Because I told them we go there,” she groans. He’s looking at her when she finally lifts her head, waiting for an explanation. “They had another one of those ‘we’re not old, we’re fun’ moments and they asked me what we like to do with our time together and I panicked because I couldn’t tell them what we  _ actually do _ when we spend the night together so I just blurted out that we like to go hang out at the Rabbit Hole and they just jumped on the idea and well, here we are.” 

Killian looks equal parts like he wants to laugh and jump overboard at the idea of going to a bar with her parents. It’s not her fault! She had to come up with something and the truth of the matter is that she and Killian are still in the honeymoon period of their relationship - though she doesn’t really see it slowing down anytime soon. This is the first quiet moment they’ve had since they really got together. This is the first time they’ve been able to really be together and not just find a few stolen minutes when her parents are out of the loft or when they could steal away to his room at Granny’s. It’s nice, just being able to enjoy each other. 

“Well,” Killian finally says. “I suppose it has been a while since I took you out properly.” Emma looks up at him, relieved and hopeful. “Besides,” he shrugs, his hand resuming its path again. “It could be fun.” 

Emma does  _ not _ appreciate the look in his eye when he says that - well, okay she  _ does _ , a lot, but not the implication of what that look could mean for tomorrow night. “Behave yourself,” she warns him. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Swan,” he insists. “I will be the picture of propriety.” Yeah right. She doesn’t believe that for a second.

“My dad still has a sword.”

Killian smirks, rolls her over onto her back and settles his hips into the cradle of her thighs. He gives her a wink. “So do I.” 

-/-

When Emma and Killian arrive at the Rabbit Hole, the place is already nearly packed with people. Emma’s not surprised, the town only has one bar and, well, there’s not much else to do on a Friday night here. She’s broken up enough fights at one in the morning when she works the night shift to know how rowdy this place can get. Which is why she still can’t believe this is where her parents wanted to have their date. Here. Of all places. She sighs, maybe she  _ should _ have let them just have Killian over for dinner. 

“What’s wrong, Love?” Killian asks, nudging her shoulder and leaning down so he can whisper in her ear. She’s sure the volume in this place has something to do with it, but not everything to do with it as the goosebumps rise up on her neck and she feels his lips against her skin. So much for best behaviour. 

“Just thinking that I’m definitely going to need a drink if I’m gonna make it through tonight.” 

“Aye, you and me both,” he smirks, directing her towards the bar. Emma can’t actually remember the last time she came here for a drink and not for work. It’s weird, people keep looking at her like they’re expecting to get arrested. What’ll they think when the King and Queen walk in?

“Two rums please,” Emma orders and the bartender heads off to get them their drinks. 

“Crowded in here, wouldn’t you say?” Killian asks, sliding in closer and wrapping his hooked arm around her so that her back presses into his chest.  _ Cheeky _ , she thinks. Not that she really has any issue with him finding a reason to press up against her. If her parents weren’t about to walk through that door any minute, she’d roll her hips back against him, just to get him worked up. But they are coming. So she doesn’t. 

They’re handed their drinks and toast, to surviving the night, and then throw them back in one shot, ordering a second round. Those are thrown back too. She doesn't intend on getting drunk, just a little loose, enough that she can get through the social awkwardness of dating with her parents - but not so much that she might say or do anything to give herself away. 

Killian leans in under the guise of making room for someone squeezing by behind them. Suddenly, his lips are by her ear and she can feel his smile against it, the one he gets when the rum is just starting to warm his blood.

“ _ Killian _ ,” she warns when his lips close around her earlobe, and then start trailing slowly down her neck. 

“Hmm?” he hums, playing innocent. 

“My  _ parents _ are going to be here any minute.” 

“Indeed,” he speaks against her neck and then continues, unperturbed. “But they aren’t here yet, are they?” 

Fine then, if that’s how he wants to play. She pushes back against him, her ass pressing into the front of his jeans and his lips fumble against her skin. He clears his throat and when he speaks again his voice is rougher, a little bit of an edge to it. 

“Careful what game you’re playing there, Swan,” he warns. She smirks.

“You started it.” She sees the door open, sees who comes in as they scan the room, looking. Emma grabs her third drink in one hand and then reaches back to brush her fingers against the hardening length pressing against her back. Killian growls. “Mom! Dad!” she calls then, waving them over. The sound Killian makes is priceless. She knows she’ll probably end up paying for it but it’s enough to see him so thrown off his game when she looks over her shoulder. 

She steps forward, out of the circle of his arms and into her mom’s embrace. “Hi sweetheart!” Snow says, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Hi Killian,” she says, looking over Emma’s shoulder. Killian coughs awkwardly and raises his glass in greeting. Emma bites back her smile.

David leans in for a hug too and then reaches out to shake Killian’s hand. Emma notices that he keeps the majority of his body behind her as he takes her father’s hand. Maybe she was a little too mean. He really was asking for it though. 

After a second, he recovers flawlessly, smiling at her parents with that charm she knows has gotten him through more challenging situations than this one. “So, what will you have?” Killian asks, waving down the bartender. 

“Beer for me,” David says, pointedly speaking to the bartender rather than letting Killian order for him. She sees the slight smile on Killian’s face. “Snow?”

“Beer,” she says and four pairs of eyebrows raise. 

“Beer?” Emma asks 

“I drink beer!” Snow insists. Even David doesn’t look convinced. “It’s a night out! I’m having fun!” 

Emma cringes. All she can hear is ‘ _ I’m not like the other moms. I’m a cool mom,’ _ echoing in her head. Even when she and Mary Margaret were roommates, her mom never drank beer. Wine, yes, sometimes even hard liquor if the situation called for it. But never beer. But then again, her mom did just have a baby. Maybe she’s trying to take it easy. 

“Okay then,” Emma says. “Make it four. She throws back her last drink. This night is already off to an interesting start.

David suggests they find a table and they manage to trudge their way through the crowd towards a small booth in the back of the room. Emma’s pretty sure that booth had been occupied a second ago. She doesn’t know whose presence led to it being vacated: the royals, the sheriffs or the pirate. What a freaking weird bunch they are tonight. 

They squeeze into the booth, she and Killian on one side and her parents on the other and then… nothing. An awkward, long, heavy silence hangs between them, the kind of silence that’s always dreaded when it comes to new social interactions. Twice Mary Margaret opens her mouth and Emma hopes she’ll say something but both times she closes it with a frown. David keeps alternating between clearing his throat and taking sips of his beer. What is going on? They’ve all spent time together before, they’ve all spoken to one another… but that was usually about a crisis… now with no crisis there’s just… quiet. She hates it.

The TV switches to a hockey game and David perks up. “Oh, this should be a good one,” he says and Emma realises those are the first words that have been spoken in five minutes. Mary Margaret nudges him in a not so discreet way and he looks at Killian and Emma. “Do, uh, do you like hockey?” he asks Killian lamely. 

Killian scratches at a spot behind his ear. “Alas, I’m not familiar with it. I don’t know the rules.” 

“Oh,” is all David says. 

Before the next silence can last too long Mary Margaret speaks. “So, Killian, how are things going with Belle?” she asks with a smile. “Have you made any progress?”

“Very little,” he sighs. “We keep getting stuck with translations. Those magic boxes can do much but they can’t decipher the spells.” 

“That’s too bad,” Snow says and Killian agrees. Another silence follows as they all nurse their drinks and half-watch the game. 

Emma startles suddenly when she feels Killian’s hook on her knee. His hand is around his glass, perfectly proper, but his hook is starting a slow climb. She kicks at his foot, trying to ignore the sparks shooting along her skin. He is  _ not _ actually going to try this with her parents sitting right in front of them. He hides his smile in his drink. Her parents remain unaware and Killian grows more daring until suddenly Emma is distracted from trying to bury her fingernails into her palm by her dad speaking to Killian again.

“What games _ do _ you know?” he asks. Emma smiles a little. She can tell he’s really trying. 

“Few from this world,” Killian admits, his hook has stopped it’s journey for now but it’s still on her thigh. “There was little opportunity for sport on the sea but I fancy myself quite good at cards and dice. And of course swordplay and shooting.” 

David actually smiles. “I miss a good sword fight for the sport of it,” he says. Snow catches Emma’s eye and gives her a little grin, clearly thrilled that they’ve found something to talk about. 

“Perhaps we ought to have one someday,” Killian suggests and Emma tries not to laugh at the idea of two of the most competitive people she’s ever met sword fighting ‘ _ for fun’ _ . She can see the concern on her mom’s brow too. “Actually,” he says, looking over at the dart board. “I’ve quite taken to darts.”

“Really?” David perks up. “Why don’t we play?” He asks, looking excitedly at the three of them. 

Killian looks at Emma and she shrugs. “Sure, why not? I’m a little rusty though.”

“Then we’ll just have to get you loosened back up won’t we?” Killian teases with a smile that’s way too suggestive for present company. 

He’s really enjoying this isn’t he? She shakes her head at him and his brows waggle. Her dad is looking at them with a little less enjoyment but also like he doesn’t have the ground to stand on to protest anything. She remembers the way Killian had teased David when he picked her up for their first date and she wonders exactly how far he’s going to push this. Well, he wouldn’t be a pirate if he didn’t crave a little danger, would he?

They wait for the current game to end and then head over to claim the board. Emma can’t help but notice the way her dad’s eyes shift when Killian wraps an arm around her shoulders as they walk, keeping it there as David grabs the darts. He looks at them. 

“Do you want to go first?” he offers, pointedly looking at Killian’s arm. 

“I’m fine,” he waves him off. David clenches his jaw and Emma raises a brow at him. Apparently his overprotective dad mode has been initiated. And Killian’s hook is in a much more respectable place now than it was a few minutes ago. David turns to throw his first dart and Emma looks up at Killian, flashing him that same raised eyebrow. 

“Be nice,” she tells him.

“I’m always nice,” he smirks. 

“No, you’re trying to give my dad an aneurysm with your PDA.” 

“I don’t know what either of those things mean but I’m certain your father can handle his daughter being shown a bit of affection.” He’s at least keeping his voice low. 

She shrugs. “Your funeral.” 

“I can think of no better way to perish than by showering you with my attentions. Well, maybe  _ one _ .” 

She rolls her eyes and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. Emma sinks in against his side a little, leaning her head against his shoulder and looping her arms around his waist. It’s nice. The whole sweet, boyfriend-y, little touches and cheek and forehead kisses and stuff. It’s new and she’s not used to it, but she likes it. 

David clears his throat and Emma raises her head to see him pointedly holding out the darts for one of them to take.  _ Really _ ? She casts a desperate glance at her mom who is trying and failing to hide her amused smile. But Mary Margaret steps forward and plucks the darts from her husband’s hand. David looks at her like she’s betrayed him. 

“I’ll go next,” she announces, actually winking at Emma as she walks by them. 

“But shouldn’t one of -”

“Nope!” Snow turns to the dart board and throws three bullseyes in a row without flinching. Killian’s arm falls slightly from Emma’s shoulder as he swallows, eyes going a little wide. 

“Woah, Mom,” Emma gapes. Snow shrugs but Emma can see her preening, a little bit of a daze working its way into her smile and she can tell that the drink might be starting to hit her already. That really just makes the bullseyes more impressive. She walks over to David who smiles proudly and kisses her. Oh, so  _ they _ can show affection but she can’t? 

“My turn,” Emma says, giving Killian’s waist a squeeze before heading over to pull the darts out of the board. “Wish me luck!” 

She stands at the line and sets herself in the right posture, but before she can throw the dart, Killian’s hand is on her back, his cheek brushing her ear. “Good luck,” he whispers before pressing his lips to her neck. Her dad’s throat clears again. “You feeling alright, Dave?” Killian asks with a smirk. Emma elbows him. 

She throws the dart and it misses its mark. Although, she’s pretty sure that it has more to do with the pirate whose lips are curling against her ear than with her actual skill. 

“You need to adjust your form, Love,” he tells her, finding an excuse to wrap his hand around her hip and pull her back a little against him. David coughs again and she swears Killian’s face is going to split if he smirks any wider. “You should really get that checked out, mate,” he says. Killian actually does adjust her form, pulling her hip back and lining her shoulder up more squarely with the board. The next dart hits the bullseye. 

“He’s not wrong,” Snow says softly and Emma doesn’t look but she can just picture David seething beside her. The third dart also hits the center and she and Killian both walk over to pull them from the board. 

“You need to behave yourself,” Emma whispers to him. He only smiles. 

“We’re on a  _ date _ , Swan. Is this not how people are supposed to behave on dates? It would certainly seem so if the movies your mother recommended are to be trusted.”

“You actually watched those?” she asks, surprised. 

“Aye,” he nods. “And those Henry and your father recommended as well. The Widow Lucas showed me how to use the black box in the room I rented.” He looks at her. “What?”

“I’m just surprised I guess.”

He shrugs. “They took the time to share something they enjoyed and hoped I would too. It would feel rude not to.” Emma smiles at him. It’s kind of sweet to see the effort that he’s making to befriend her family - even if he is currently trying to give her dad a heart attack. “Besides, it gives me something to talk to them about.” 

She laughs. “We could have used that when we were at the table,” she jests, nudging him with the dull side of the dart. The corner of his lips pull up salaciously. 

“I was otherwise engaged.” 

“I think you got them all,” David says impatiently and Emma hangs her head, a small laugh escaping her. They make their way back to her parents and Killian takes his turn, hitting two bullseyes. In the end, Snow destroys them all and while he’s proud of her, David still shakes his head and laughs. 

“Well,” he says, hands on his hips. “My ego is thoroughly bruised.” Snow smiles at him and pats his chest placatingly. “What do you say we try another game? Maybe pool?”

Killian agrees and she and her mom shrug. Why not? It’s better than sitting in awkward silence back at the table. 

“I must say, Your Majesty, I could have used someone with your aim back on my ship. Not only in scuffles but it’s always good to have a shark when gambling and sailors often make the mistake of underestimating a woman.”

“Men, you mean,” Snow quips and Killian laughs.

“Aye.”

“But we know better don’t we?” David chimes in. “I only needed to learn that lesson once,” he laughs, rubbing at the scar on his chin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Killian smiles, his arm snaking its way across Emma’s shoulders again. David looks surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your wife not tell you?” Killian asks, then looks at Emma. “Did you not tell him?” She shakes her head. “When Emma and I first met, when we were fighting to get here from the Enchanted Forest, Emma knocked me out with a rather impressive blow to the jaw.” He rubs at his chin.

“Aw, sorry, babe,” Emma says, rising up on her toes to kiss the spot where she hit him so long ago. He had it coming back then, but she feels a little bad about it now.

“You did?” David demands, looking at her with some kind of fatherly pride she’s still getting used to. She doesn’t fail to notice that he doesn’t seem quite as scandalized by her kissing a man in front of him as she expected. She nods. “Huh,” is all he says. 

“Like mother, like daughter, I suppose,” Killian ventures. David actually laughs.

“Yeah, I guess so!” He looks at Emma. “Good for you,” he says before casting a slightly guilty look at Killian. “No offence.” 

Killian shrugs it off. “None taken. I was… different back then.” He looks a little ashamed and David nods. 

“Yeah,” he agrees and Killian’s shoulders straighten. Emma squeezes at his waist, trying to sooth him, but she doesn’t need to when David speaks again. “But you’re not that person anymore.” 

Emma doesn’t know who is more shocked, Killian, her mother, or herself. Killian coughs, scratches behind his ear. He’s trying to play it cool but she can tell how much even this small acknowledgement from her dad of how much he’s changed affects him. 

“Right,” he says finally. “Shall we play some billiards?” David nods and Emma starts to follow them but Snow stops her. 

“Why don’t you boys play,” she suggests. “Emma and I will go get another round.”

“You don’t want to play?” Emma asks, frowning. She knows her mom has a competitive streak. Snow shrugs.

“Pool isn’t my strong suit,” she says. “And I think I’d like to go out on a victory.” David checks once more that she’s sure she doesn’t want to play and she assures him she doesn’t. Emma’s pretty sure that her dad receives the same hint that she’s getting: Snow wants him and Killian to spend some time alone together, she’s giving him his chance to talk. Emma’s weary but she’s also getting the sense that her mom is also trying to lure her into some kind of weird mother-daughter talk under the guise of getting drinks. 

They push their way through the crowd - Emma swears it’s even more packed now than it was when they first got here - and make it to the bar. It takes them a while to get the lone bartender's attention and Mary Margaret takes that time to look back at where the guys are playing pool. 

Emma looks over her shoulder. She can’t help but laugh. They both have the same cocky swagger to their mannerisms, showing off with every shot. She can’t hear what they’re saying but she’s certain there’s a little trash talk going on. It looks like Killian is winning though, if the smile on his face and the frown on David’s is anything to go by. David says something that makes Killian laugh and David raises an eyebrow as he leans over the table to take his shot. She’d never noticed that little quirk of her dad’s. 

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Snow comments and Emma turns back to her. 

“What?”

Snow nods towards the guys again. “I just think you might have gotten your taste in men from me,” she smirks. 

“What? Ew,” Emma says but then she looks over at them and  _ oh my god _ . “Oh my god!” she says. “Oh, gross.”

“It’s not gross!” Snow laughs. “Your father is confident and kind and supportive - and so is Killian. And he looks at you like you hung the stars - that’s an addictive feeling, believe me,  _ I know _ . But it’s not a bad thing,” she says quickly and Emma realises her panic must be evident on her face. 

Things are going well with Killian. She likes him. A lot. More than she’s liked anyone in a long time but… he traded his ship for her, his home, and to hear Snow tell her that he looks at her the way her father looks at her mother.. they’re true love and well, it’s a lot. And it’s a little scary. 

“I know it’s not,” she admits. “It’s just -”

“Intense?” Snow asks with a smile. 

Emma laughs a bit. “Yeah.” Her mom nods. “Intense is the right word. Killian is really kind of all or nothing and all in and I like it but it’s… a lot.” 

“Just give it time,” she says, reaching out to stroke her back gently. “I have to say, as your mother, it’s nice to know that you’re lo-” she cuts herself off. “That you’re  _ cared about  _ so much.” Snow has a small dreamy smile curling her lips and Emma asks her what else she’s thinking. She shrugs. “Your dad is like that too. All or nothing. Like I said, the apple doesn’t fall far…”

Emma raises an eyebrow, biting back her smirk. “Yeah, well, I never slept with Whale so…”

Snow bursts out laughing and actually smacks her arm and Emma starts laughing too. For a moment, it feels like before the curse broke, back when Snow wasn’t her mom but just Mary Margaret, her friend, her roommate. She misses that sometimes. She’s happy she has her parents, that she finally found them, but sometimes she misses her best friend. 

Emma manages to get the bartender’s attention and orders their drinks. “So,” Snow asks as they wait for their order. “How are things going?” She’s still got that lighthearted, slightly coy smile on her face that reminds Emma of simpler times and so she answers honestly, speaking to her friend rather than her mother. 

“It’s going… it’s going really well actually.” Snow’s smile is going to split her face. She nudges her with her elbow.

“Tell me!” 

“I dunno. He’s sweet, like really sweet. With me but also with Henry and I guess I never realised how much fun he is to be around. He’s always teasing and playing around and he’s got all these great stories and these little quirks that I didn’t know about. And he asks me about myself and he just listens - like,  _ actually listens _ .” 

She looks over at where Killian’s playing pool. He catches her eye, raises a brow. “And it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a freaking Calvin Klein model. And oh my god the s-” She stops. Suddenly remembering who she’s talking to. Snow doesn’t look phased, only smirking at her a little wickedly and Emma wonders if she’s feeling the same nostalgia she is or if it’s just the one beer already hitting her. 

“You’re blushing,” she teases. 

“I am not!” Emma insists. 

“Hey, I don’t blame you. He is  _ very _ hot.”

“ _ Mom _ !” 

“What? I’m married. I’m not blind.” 

Emma only gapes at her in disbelief as Mary Margaret shrugs dismissively and grabs the four bottles when they’re set down in front of them. The bartender also sets down a bottle of rum giving her a smile. 

“On the house,” he says. “You being here has people on their best behaviours. I haven’t had to throw someone out all night.” 

“Is this a bribe?” Emma asks with a raised brow.

“Absolutely,” the man says and Emma laughs, accepting the bottle and the glasses but throwing in a large enough tip that she doesn’t feel like she’s committing a felony. When they reach the pool table, there’s some sort of heated argument going on.

“I’m just saying, when I win, I want to win fairly,” David says. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killian insists. 

“What’s going on?” Emma interrupts. 

“Killian is cheating.” 

“I’m not cheating! I’m offended you would even suggest it.”

“Why do you think he’s cheating?” Emma asks, feeling protective of Killian but also fully aware that him cheating is absolutely a possibility. 

“Because five minutes ago he was sinking everything and then I missed a few in a row and suddenly he hasn’t managed to sink a single ball.” 

Emma bites back her laugh. “You think he’s cheating to let you win?” Emma looks at Killian, sees the smirk on his face.  _ Oh my god, he’s cheating to let David win _ . 

“Emma,” David says. “Please tell your boyfriend that I can win on my own, thank you very much, and that this isn’t going to earn him brownie points with your dad.” 

Killian laughs but he reaches out and grabs hold of her hand, squeezing it when her dad refers to him casually as her boyfriend. She brings his hand up to her lips and presses them against his knuckles. His eyes widen slightly in surprise while her father rolls his. She wonders at his surprise. Maybe she’s not the best at showing affection. Maybe she should work on that. 

She steps forward into his embrace and he wraps his hooked arm around her as he reaches for his cue that’s leaning against the table. She presses herself against him and puts her hand on his chest. There’s still that bit of surprise on his face but his smile tells her it’s the good kind. 

“Killian,” she says seriously, tilting her head up to look at him. 

“Yes, Love?” 

“Stop letting my dad win,” she smiles. He laughs, nods, but leans down quickly to kiss her, brief enough that David can’t really complain. It doesn’t stop him from frowning though. 

“Alright then, Dave,” Killian says when Emma walks back over to her lean against the wall with her mom. “Let’s have a real game shall we?”

The game gets pretty close, by the end it comes down to David having only the eight ball left and Killian having one of his own to sink. David misses the shot and they debate the rules as to whether Killian wins by default or if they keep playing. David insists that he’s lost and that that’s better for Killian since he’d still have two balls to sink to win. Killian insists that he loves a challenge and wants them to continue. 

Snow rolls her eyes and shoots Emma a knowing look. Shit, they really are alike. She’s trying not to be grossed out by that. In the end, Killian sinks both his ball and the eight and wins the game, but in a way that David can respect and he offers him his hand to shake, insisting that they’ll have to have a rematch sometime. Killian’s smile at the offer and the way his cheeks go a little red warm her heart.

“How did you get so good at this?” David asks. “They didn’t have this game in the Enchanted Forest. Do you and Emma play a lot when you come here?”

Killian shoots her a smirk and she glares at him. “No, we usually enjoy ourselves in other ways when we spend an evening together.”  _ He’s really pushing it _ , she thinks. But as far as her dad knows they hang out here on their nights together so hopefully he thinks that Killian just means they play other games, and not that Killian spends most of his nights with his head between her legs, playing in a whole different way. 

“It was Belle, actually,” he adds before David or Snow can put any pieces together. “She’s quite the shark and sometimes we play to blow off steam when the research gets to be too much. She taught me a trick or two. There are quite a few games she’s taught me that we didn’t have in our realm. I must say this world has a certain advantage when it comes to entertainment.” 

“Yeah,” Snow says. “I have to say I’d miss reality TV and the Food Network if we ever went back.” 

“And video games,” David adds. “And ESPN.” 

“Look, the Enchanted Forest lost me at no indoor plumbing,” Emma chimes in and there’s a shared laugh of agreement. 

“I do miss some things,” Snow admits. “Like royal balls. There’s nothing here quite like the dances we used to have at the castle.” 

“I miss riding horses,” David says. “Cars are great, but you can’t bond with a car. What about you, Hook? Do you miss anything from your old life?” Emma tenses, almost worried about his answer. He gave up his home for her, she reminds herself. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll never regret it, that he’ll never resent her for it. 

“Can’t say that I do,” he shakes his head, reaching for her as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He probably does. “Particularly now that I have my ship back. I missed the sea.” He looks at David pointedly then, his fingers tightening on her hip and she knows that the message is for her too. “But I have no plans of leaving. I’ve found a call that’s stronger than hers.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and she tenses a little, a natural reaction to such an overt admission of feelings, but then lets out the breath she’s holding and smiles at him, lets herself be happy about it. She catches David’s nod of approval. Mary Margaret’s practically swooning. 

“I do miss the music, though,” he adds after a moment. “There’s something about the sound of a crew singing under the hot sun while they work, or late at night under the stars that nothing here has managed to live up to. The music in this realm… leaves something to be desired.” Emma bites back her smile, remembering his distaste for most, if not all of the music Henry insists on playing loudly whenever he’s on the Jolly Roger with Killian. 

“Although, I will admit that some of the music Emma has shown me is more... palatable.” Emma smirks as David and Snow ask what music he means.

“I showed him classic rock,” she tells them. “I thought with the whole leather and eyeliner and earrings it might be up his alley.” She was honestly shocked when he’d liked it. She’d been showing him a bunch of different genres and he’d made faces at nearly all of them, all but folk - which she expected - and classic rock - which she had not.

David’s eyes go wide but not in shock, in excitement. “And you liked it?” he demands. 

“Aye,” Killian answers. “They have melodies that encourage singing along and that feel like they should be sung in groups. It feels nostalgic.” Emma can’t quite make the connection between something like Queen or Led Zeppelin and sea shanties out on the water, but she’s never been there so she assumes it’s more of a feeling thing than a technical thing.

“I  _ love _ classic rock! I was born in - well, David Nolan was born in - the eighties! I grew up listening to that stuff! At least, I have memories of growing up listening to it, of my mom playing records for me. It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it,” Killian laughs. 

“Don’t they have a jukebox here?” David exclaims, scanning the bar. He clearly spots one because he grabs a very confused Killian’s arm and drags him across the room. Emma looks at her mom who seems equally as surprised before she bursts out laughing. Her dad is acting like a little kid - or like a nerdy dad - and poor Killian is apparently going to be subjected to a hell of a musical education. 

Emma grabs the bottle of rum and the glasses and holds them up before she and Mary Margaret head off after the guys. “I think we’re gonna need this,” she jokes. Snow only nods, smiling. 

When they reach their significant others, Emma is surprised to find them in a heated conversation, debating the merits of AC/DC versus Aerosmith. Emma can’t even keep track of who prefers who as they speak over one another and take turns - sorta, they kinda push and shove really - filling the jukebox and picking songs. 

“Swan,” Killian turns to her for the first time in nearly ten minutes and she looks at him with an arched brow. “Do you have any of those blasted quarter-dollars? My dubloons won’t fit in the bloody machine.” 

Emma laughs. “They’re just called quarters and no, I don’t. But I have rum,” she offers as a substitute. 

“Aye,” Killian says. “That will help too. Especially if your father is going to continue to insist on playing REO Speedwagon.” 

“Hey!” David cries. 

Emma and her mom try and coax the guys over to the table nearby but neither of them are willing to step away from the jukebox, both convinced that someone else will choose a terrible song. They also can’t stop suggesting songs and the way David keeps excitedly shouting ‘oh man, yeah I love that one’, and Killian keeps referring to songs as ‘bloody brilliant’ has her pretty sure that she and Mary Margaret have lost them for the night. 

So, she fills her and her mom’s glasses and they head to the table that is literally less than six feet away, leaving the bottle and the two other glasses for David and Killian. The women sip their drinks, watching in amazement as the two grown men continue speaking so fast she can’t keep up with what they’re saying and bouncing on the balls of their feet. 

Emma loses track of what happens really after that, David and Killian become a bit of an entertaining blur, both of them laughing and talking and drinking rum - they’re really drinking quite a bit, she realises at one point - and singing along. That’s right. The two of them are belting out classic rock songs, drawing annoyed and weary looks from everyone else in the room. But what can they do? It’s the king/sheriff and a freaking pirate. Who's going to stand up to that?

“At least they’re getting along,” Snow comments, wincing as David and Killian butcher a song she can’t recognize - probably because they have the words wrong. 

“Of all the things that I thought might bring them together, I never thought it would be this.” Emma shakes her head. “Do you really think -” she starts but then feels silly for asking. Snow gives her an encouraging look. “Do you think dad likes him?” 

It shouldn’t matter. She’s a grown woman and she can be with whoever she wants to be with. She’s never needed anybody's permission or approval and she doesn’t need it now. But just because she doesn’t need it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it. 

“I think,” Mary Margaret starts, choosing her words carefully. “I think that were it any other situation, if Killian wasn’t the man dating his daughter, he and your father might be best friends. I think he does like him, but he’s trying not to like him too much because he’s stubborn and overprotective and he feels like he needs to be on your side.”

“There aren’t any sides,” Emma says. “We’re together. We make a good team.”

“I see that. And your dad is starting too also. You just need to give him some time. But I think that they’re making some serious strides if tonight is anything to go by.” She winces again as David fails to hit a particularly high note that should be reserved for only Freddy Mercury. But he laughs as Killian pours him another drink, clinking his glass against the other man’s. 

“And you?” Emma asks hesitantly. “Do you like him?” She’s never thought to ask. Her dad has always made his opinion clear. Mary Margaret is different though. She plays things closer to the chest. She’s never really worried about her opinion of Killian until now, now that she realises she doesn’t know what it is. 

Snow smiles. “I do,” she says, placing her hand over Emma’s reassuringly. “I didn’t always, but even when we first met him I could tell there was something going on between you. It scared me back then because of who he was. But he’s changed, become someone better, someone who might actually deserve you.” Emma opens her mouth to protest, to defend Killian but her mom stops her. “I just mean that I have trouble believing that  _ anyone _ deserves you. But the way he looks at you, and the way he supports you and encourages you. Yeah, I like him.” 

Emma smiles, looking down to hide the effect of her mom’s words, which she’s sure are written all over her face. “Good.”

"Emma," Killian says, suddenly right beside her. She turns to find him looking down at her, hand out and a slightly dazed, happy smile on his lips. "Dance with me." His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's the slightest sway to his stance. She bites her lip. He's drunk. 

She notices David there too now, having more trouble standing upright than Killian is, but still pulling Mary Margaret to her feet. "It's no royal ball," he says. "But will it do for now?"

She doesn’t hear what her mom answers. She’s too distracted by the arched eyebrow and upturned lip that’s just shy of Killian’s usual swagger, slightly softened by his current state. But he looks so sweet and she remembers dancing with him at the ball in the Enchanted Forest and thinks it might be nice to do it again without the threat of never being born looming over her.

She puts her hand in his and he gives her a goofy grin, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her, holding his hook out for her to take hold of. Oh right,  _ he waltzes _ , she nearly laughs. He leads her to the little space between the seats and the jukebox, they’re in their own little corner here, away from the rest of the crowded bar, some eighties balad blasting through the speakers. Emma swears she sees David shoot him a thumbs up over Mary Margaret’s shoulder. 

She knows it’s probably not proper dancing form but she lets her fingers slide from his shoulder up to the nape of his neck so she can play with the ends of his hair. He leans into her touch. She’s impressed when he actually attempts to lead them through the steps she can barely remember. He’s honestly not too bad at it, less graceful than he’d been last time but, considering the nearly empty bottle of rum, she gives him credit for standing right now. 

He stumbles over his own feet eventually and chuckles softly, lightheartedly, and it’s nice to hear. “I fear I might not be quite up to the task at the moment,” he says, shaking his head. She laughs with him. 

“That’s okay,” she tells him, pulling his hook around her so it can join his hand at her back. She slides her other hand up around his neck. “Why don’t I teach you how we dance here this time?” She steps into him, pressing her chest to his, and starts to sway. 

His arms tighten, pulling her in closer. “So many wonderful things about this realm,” he starts, laying his forehead against hers. “But this might be my favorite yet.” She laughs a little, the slightly mumbled way his words come out betraying him again. She’ll tease him tomorrow. But right now he’s soft and warm and happy and he smells so nice, so she lays her head on his shoulder and dances with him in a dingy bar with her parents right next to her. It should be weird. But it’s not. It feels right. Probably because it’s him. No, definitely because it’s him. 

Killian’s hand moves over her back, playing with her hair as he turns his head to nuzzle against the back of her neck. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t even mean anything by it when his fingers trail down her spine and settle on her backside. She’s not surprised, she’s well aware that he’s a fan of that part of her, and he’s still swaying with her gently. She  _ is _ surprised that her dad isn’t causing a scene over it though. 

She peeks over Killian’s shoulder and really wishes she hadn’t. Her dad isn’t saying anything because he didn’t notice, because he’s too busy making out with her mom, who is giggling and playfully swatting at his wandering hands. Oh god. She’s gonna be sick. 

She makes a sound and Killian’s head pops up, follows her gaze behind him and a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. She glares at him. 

“I cannot believe you got my dad drunk,” she hisses. 

“I did not get your father drunk! He got  _ me  _ drunk!” Emma rolls her eyes and he smiles even wider. “I think I’m winning him over,” he winks. “And I think he would make a good drinking buddy.” Emma pulls back to look at him, her brows shooting up to her hairline. 

“Where did you even learn that term?” 

He just smiles. His hand gives her ass a squeeze - definitely intentional this time - as he pulls her in closer, pressing her hips to his as he runs his nose and then his lips along her jaw. Her heart rate picks up, it’s automatic at this point, her skin prickling everywhere it’s touching his, but she tilts her head away, enjoying the very put-out and slightly confused expression on his face. 

“I am not making out with you next to my parents.” She looks over at them again, grimaces. “Even if they seem to have no problem making out in front of their daughter.” 

Killian takes her chin between his thumb and finger, drawing her eyes back to his as he leans in, his lips a breath away from hers as he speaks, that wicked grin coming back. “Actually, Swan, I had quite a bit more in mind…” he trails off. Emma swallows.

“Then maybe it’s time we get out of here,” she suggests. And he nods so enthusiastically it makes her laugh. 

“That’s a brilliant idea,” he tells her. “I always said you were brilliant.” 

She turns them so that she can look over at her mom without having to leave his arms because she really doesn’t want to at the moment - and maybe she wants to save him the awkwardness of hiding the growing hardness she can feel against her stomach. Thankfully, her parents have stopped making out and are now just gazing dreamily into each other's eyes. That might be worse, really. 

“I think we should get these two home,” she says and Snow looks over at her, confused at first but then nods, laughing as she takes in the state of their dates. 

“Goodnight, Lady Snow,” Killian says. “Until next time, mate,” he says to David. Emma holds her breath but to her surprise, David smiles, reaching out to give Killian one of those weird, bro-ey handshakes where they just kinda clasp hands like they’re going to arm wrestle. David turns to Mary Margaret then. 

“One more song,” he insists. “I picked the next one.” 

“Okay, one more song,” she agrees, patting his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Mom. ‘Night, Dad,” she says as she turns in Killian’s embrace to head out. He practically presses himself against the back of her as he follows. 

“Night, sweetheart,” David says. “This was fun,” he adds -  _ slurs _ . 

Emma smiles. “Yeah, it was.” She waves goodbye to her mom who gives her one of those touched, happy smiles and then she leads Killian out of the bar. 

His hand is on her waist the whole way through the crowd, fingers dancing along the edge of her shirt, sneaking under it, hot against her skin. His breath is on her neck and every few steps he leans down to brush his lips against it too. 

They’ve barely made it outside before he’s pulling her out of the reach of the lone porch light above the door and pressing her against the wall. His lips fall over hers and his hand slips under her shirt, flattening against her stomach and sliding higher. Emma groans into his mouth, reaching up to grab hold of his hair, pulling him closer. His hips press against hers, pinning her to the wall as his hand finds her breast. 

Emma gasps, throwing her head back and he takes the opportunity to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She needs to get him back to his ship  _ now _ . But she also doesn’t have it in her to pull away, not when his hips are rolling against hers in a dirty grind and his fingers are shoving her bra out of the way. 

She hikes her leg over his hip and he groans this time, grabbing hold of her thigh with his hook and keeping her there, the blunt curve of it digging into her ass. His mouth finds hers again, open and heady as he drags his tongue over hers, his breathing ragged. Her hands reach down to slip into his back pockets, pulling him harder against her and holy shit she’s definitely debating letting him fuck her against this wall when suddenly -

“Hey! Hands where I can see them, Hook!” 

Her father’s voice is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her. Killian freezes for a moment but doesn’t pull back. His lips curl against hers, his laugh puffing against her skin as he removes his hand from under her shirt and holds it up and out over his head.

“Hand  _ and _ hook!” David calls again and Killian drops her leg to hold his other arm up as well. He kisses her again though and it’s so ridiculous, him standing there with his arms in the air while his lips and body are pressed to hers, her father threatening him from twenty feet away. She feels like a teenager and it should annoy her but it doesn’t, it makes her laugh. She never got this. She’s not saying she wants this kind of thing to happen all the time but she supposes there are still opportunities for her to get those childhood memories she missed out on. 

“Good man,” David says before letting himself be dragged away by Snow. His own hands start to trail a little too low on her mom’s back and Emma shouts at him. 

“Hands where I can see them, Dad!” David’s hands shoot straight up, like a perp, and she laughs. This whole thing,  _ this whole night _ , has been ridiculous. 

She slides her hands up across Killian’s back, wraps her arms around him and he kisses her once more, softer this time. “Thank you,” she says when he pulls back, tilting her head up to press her lips to his cheek. He bites his lip, smiling.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps some gratitude is in order…”

“You’ve used that line before,” she teases him. 

He sighs. “Swan, your father poured an entire bottle of rum into me, forgive me if I resort to tried and true lines I know will work.” 

“Pretty cocky,” she tells him, arching a brow and then regretting it immediately when she realises the opening she just gave him - well, not  _ really _ regretting it. 

He ruts his hips against hers and her breath hitches. “Oh, you have no idea.” 

“Actually,” she answers, her voice catching a little. “I have a very good idea. So how about you take me home, sailor?” 

“You’re full of good ideas,” he says, leaning in.

“Even date night with my parents?” she jokes and he halts before his lips touch hers, huffing out a laugh. 

“Aye, even date night with your parents.” He kisses her softly and smiles sweetly at her. “It wasn’t so bad. I think your father might even be beginning to approve of me.” His grin turns sinful then and his fingers come up to brush over her bottom lip, continuing a trail down her chin to her neck and chest and stomach. 

“Although right now,” he starts, brow ticking up at the way her stomach flutters under his touch and her back arches slightly. “I think I’d like to take you back to my ship and do a few things to you that he definitely would  _ not _ approve of.” 

  
  



End file.
